Phoenix Crusade
by clevamugglegrl03
Summary: Summary: [Revamped version of Your Mystery Phoenix!] How will Ginny Weasley manage to face tests, maneuver a guise, handle tutoring sessions, and the attention of a dragon all in the same year? And they said 6th year was a piece of pumpkin pie...[DG]
1. Unlikely Encounters

Phoenix Crusade

By Clevamugglegrl03

Edited by Gilraen R. Luinwe

Summary: (Revamped version of Your Mystery Phoenix!) How will Ginny Weasley manage to face tests, maneuver a guise, handle tutoring sessions, and the attention of a dragon all in the same year? And they said 6th year was a piece of pumpkin pie…(DG)

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Chapter One: Unlikely Encounters

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Year six isn't a prance through a field full of daisies, you know.

_Everyone _goes on about how year six is the calm before the storm, the breath of fresh air before you hit the books harder than ever before. You get to focus on the subjects of your choice, prepare for a career, and become a model citizen of the wizarding world…

"Well to bloody hell with that," Ginny Weasley mumbled under her breath as she hitched her messenger bag strap higher on her shoulder. Lugging it around all the time was a pain in the neck, quite literally, considering the cramps and aches that occurred oh too frequently. Study period for Gryffindor sixth years had just begun and she wasn't finding any repose in there. It was really silly of her to even give it a chance seeing as most of her classmates believed in the idiotic theory that this year was a party.

Now, don't get her wrong; if she could party, she _would_ party but that wasn't the case. She wasn't as studious as her friends teased her to be. Actually, if anything, she was a rather normal student with habits of procrastination and occasional tardiness to class. She wasn't mediocre but she wasn't extraordinary either. She settled with a status nice and snug in the middle of intelligent society, unnoticed, how she liked it.

That didn't work so well when her mother was notified of how many O.W.L.s she had received the previous year.

A couple.

Not as in 'a few' either.

It was embarrassing. It was a feat worthy of the twins. It was something she never wanted mentioned again, but do you want to know the worst part of it? Ginevra Weasley was NOT dumb. It was simply an awful case of test-taking anxiety that Ginny never felt like proclaiming to the world. She had her pride and she'd like to keep it, thank you very much. And in life, everything has its price. Obviously, this was hers.

"How can you become a healer with O.W.L.s like that, Ginny?" Molly Weasley had screeched as Ginny flipped through her newest book. "It just doesn't make sense. The marks that you have are too high for you to not get—are you listening to me!"

"Well how 'bout I not become a healer and do something I'd like to do for a change. Say, a novelist?" she responded nonchalantly, her eyes never leaving the small print on the parchment.

"I will not have this kind of behavior, young lady!" Mrs. Weasley yelped.

"An editor then?"

"Ginevra!"

"A journalist, final offer."

"Couldn't you pick something else if you find medicine so horrid? Something, oh I don't know, more stable!" Molly fumed.

"I'd better be a belly dancer then. Can't have enough of those, right?"

That day, Ginny couldn't have made Fred and George any prouder.

But with all joking aside, Ginny was just as worried as her parents were about her test scores. Most teachers were able to do little things to make her calm down a bit before a test (Professor Flitwick had a cup of herbal tea sent to her during breakfast before her charms test first period) for they seemed oddly sensitive to a student's problems. She didn't even have to hint at her problem for them to simply pick it up, or perhaps it was the scores that notified them…

Either way, they couldn't really do much when her anxiety was kicked into overdrive during the O.W.L. testing time. The whole idea that her future school career depended on a bunch of tests horrified her to no end and thus began the nervous wreck of babbling when they asked her a question. Even when they asked Ginny for her name she would, when she could speak coherently, answer 'Queen Elizabeth II' or 'your mother'.

The two O.W.L.s she did receive were in arithmetic and creative writing, two subjects on opposite sides of the spectrum but ones that didn't require her to talk to the test giver. Writing and numbers she could work with even if her throat was dry and her palms were sweaty. It was sheer luck more than anything because sometimes she found she couldn't even move her hand to write, like during the History of Magic essay portion of the test.

So, here she was, searching for the best place to study and get to work on her transfiguration homework, when she realized even the library was full. Cursing under her breath once again, Ginny whirled around in search for another place, _any _place, as long as it was quiet.

Not that studying really helped. She could be the most prepared student for a test ever known to wizarding kind and still flunk the moment she saw the nicely stapled packet of papers. It was odd how she had no hope for oral examinations while writing fluctuated on the day the test was taken. Literally, the day! Okay, so perhaps it was a more complicated form of anxiety.

Her mind caught in the wonder of her problems, she all but gracefully stumbled to the floor as the ground beneath her started to move. Say what now! Ginny hadn't even realized she had been climbing up stairs yet. Bracing herself against the railing, she waited for the staircase to stop moving. Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad thing; it could take her to a quiet place to work for all she knew.

Peering down the corridor, her eyes scanning for any sign of familiarity, Ginny tiptoed closer as if she wasn't supposed to be there. She tilted her head to the side before she recognized a couple of paintings that waved at her in their own recognition. _Ah, that's right, _she thought, adjusting her bag again, _this is the way to the Room of Requirements. I bet it hasn't been used in ages…_

When she arrived, she stuck her head in, eyes darting back and forth taking note of the torches that lined the walls, dimly lighting the room. There was a large, red armchair that strikingly contrasted with the darkness, angled directly across from a small fireplace. There was a murmur of soft whispering, the whole aura turning off Ginny's adventurous mood, making her feel like she ought to turn and run like any other intelligent person would have done. But instead, she was glued to the spot, not thinking about the light flooding in from the passageway behind her, her hand gripping at the shoulder strap of her messenger bag tightly.

"Father, we've got to stop doing this. It's way too suspicious for me to have to leave so often, always by myself. Don't you think people will start to notice?"

A deeper and, Ginny couldn't help but notice, slightly crackling voice responded with a deep throated chuckle. "You're a Slytherin. That whole house already knows what you're up to and I bet they are doing the same as we speak."

The dark outline of the person in the chair dropped its head slowly, "I suppose you're right, Father."

Another laugh reverberated through the room. "Suppose?" it asked incredulously. "Of course I'm right, you useless fool!"

Ginny found herself slowly being drawn in, the opening into the room closing silently behind her. Funny, was it charmed to do that? Well, that was no matter. This could be useful information. _Something all Slytherins do?_ Ginny thought. _Well that's obvious. It must have something to do with He-who-must-not-be-named. I could probably report this to Harry. Wait, scratch that; tell Hermione, the sensible one. _

"So what are your plans for the future? You'll be joining the ranks in a month and I would like to know how your initiation project is going."

_This is odd, _Ginny thought. _I can't see another person, so who's he talking to? I mean, I knew he was weird but…I should get closer; maybe the other person's standing or something. _

The outline on the chair seemed to rest his head on what Ginny supposed was the palm of his hand. _He looks distressed…_

"It's," the outline forced out with an effort, "a work in progress."

"Don't be smart with me, boy!"

"But it's nearly impossible for me to do all of this. Can't I just postpone it until I'm out of—"

"Postpone!" the father yelled in outrage. "You are to join the Dark Lord's ranks immediately, you half-witted child! Be glad that he is gracious enough to allow you in!"

"But Father!"

"Draco, you had better watch your tongue!" the father warned dangerously.

Ginny's mind reeled. "Malfoy?" she hissed to herself. "Two Malfoys? Where the hell is the other one?" The Fates must have been gracious enough to allow her whisperings to be inaudible to the two other people in the room.

Draco stood up, the red chair he was sitting in dematerializing as he did so. He took quick strides toward the fireplace and knelt before it, his hands clutching the carpet. "Father, I do not wish to disobey you, but I only wish for more time. I promise I will join the ranks but can it not wait until after I graduate?"

Sparks flew out of the fireplace, burning Draco's face and arms, the fire turning from a bluish tint to a blood red hue. Oddly enough, Ginny couldn't see any burns on his pale skin but Draco still let out a strangled grunt, clutching at the carpet harder. He shoulders tensed and shook for a minute before he hissed out in pain. The scene almost made Ginny feel a slight bit of sympathy for him. He was, after all, pleading on his knees with an apathetic, cold father; something Ginny thought she'd never see.

But she pushed those feelings away immediately, her senses kicking in just in time. Perhaps this would be the best time to make a run for it.

"You disappoint me so much, Draco. Perhaps a little bit of pain will make you think some things over, clear your mind."

And after a flicker, the flames of the fireplace went back to normal and Draco hoisted himself up against a wall. Propped up by his elbow, he slid down to sit on the cold floor, his arm resting over his right knee. He glared down at his shoes, his emerald and silver tie loosened and his clothing not quite crisp to perfection. It was the first time Ginny saw anything that related to disarray within ten feet of Draco Malfoy. She nearly snorted, lacking any sense of pity for the tired boy.

"Damn. Why? Why can't I just say it…" he muttered under his breath, running an agitated hand through his hair. "I fight for myself, and only myself. I don't want to take any damn orders from anyone else."

_Ironic, _Ginny thought with a smirk. _What do you call that pitiful scene there with your father?_

She backed up a bit, heading towards the door. Well, what would he say if a sudden flood of light filled the room? Surely he'd see her and there'd be no way to explain. _Hmph. Like I need to anyways, _Ginny thought indignantly. She started to back away anyways, trying to come up with a plan as she did so. He'd get up soon and need to leave, and where would that leave her? He'd be bound to find her…

_I need to be invisible! _Ginny thought, giving her theory a little try. It was her only hope, for wasn't this room supposed to grant your every request? She looked down at the ground in wonder when she couldn't see herself. _Well, isn't that nifty?_ She took a step backwards in fascination.

_Creak. _

Oh Merlin, she wasn't weightless! Her eyes snapped up to meet with Draco's, her mouth forming a tight line. She tried her hardest not to laugh at his perplexed expression as he furrowed his brows then shrugged, turning his attention back to his, apparently, painful arms. He examined them thoroughly, wincing to the point Ginny thought he might actually cry as he poked himself to find the invisible burns.

She ordered the door to open silently while his head was still down, but when the flood of light entered, Malfoy hastily (although haste at this time, for him, wasn't that fast) stood up. "Who's there?" he demanded.

"No one!" she squeaked, her eyes widening as the words escaped her mouth. _Who said that? I most definitely did NOT just say that. Oh hell, I AM an idiot! _

"Where are you?" he hissed, taking slow steps forward.

Ginny snorted loudly. "I'm _behind_ you," she mocked. "Oh wait, now I'm in front of you. To your left, your right, actually, I'm _everywhere, _isn't that great?"

"I will not play these games! Now, stop being a coward and come out!" he spat, his own smug smirk surfacing. "I'll have you know, you won't be able to escape!"

He took a step closer, too close for Ginny's comfort. She shifted to the right, so that she was standing shoulder to shoulder with him. She bent closer, her breath light enough to tickle his ear. "We'll see about that."

Draco whirled around to the sound of her voice, conveniently turning his back to the corridor. She dodged his outstretched wand and slipped away, keeping her steps light and quick as she neared the flood of light. She took a run for it as soon as her feet hit the hardwood floors of the hallway, her giggle reverberating in the boy's ears as he swiveled around just to see the doorway shut. A long string of muffled curses filtered into her ears as she laughed outright and took a turn towards the main hall. She was quite hungry after such an adventurous endeavor.

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A/N: In this story, book six did not happen because, well, I wrote the original before book six came out and it just wouldn't make sense if all that drama between Harry and Ginny, the trio leaving to search, global doom, and such had happened previous to this year. Honestly, that situation with the one in this story would just tear her to pieces. Also, I made Ginny be in 6th year instead of 5th because…well because I said so. But even though the first chapter is WAY different than the original first chapter, rest assured that it will follow the same concept and still keep some major plot points. I just needed more things to work with because obviously Phoenix was dragging one problem out (what! You didn't think I would notice?) I hope it was an interesting read. Reviews are greatly appreciated. 


	2. The Primary Strategy

Phoenix Crusade

Chapter Two: The Primary Strategy

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_The whole world, along with its history apparently, is completely and utterly boring_, Draco noted dully as he casually leaned back in his seat, creating a satisfying _creak_ as he did so. He pulled his arms up and behind his head; the cold air that seeped through the walls remained to be the only refreshing feeling that kept him from falling asleep. He glanced up at the ceiling, finding it more interesting than the current topic being discussed, and spread out his legs in front of him, his body continually searching for a comfortable position. 

"After the first goblin rebellion, Gringotts underwent new leadership and management causing the following immediate effects to occur…" Professor Binn's voice droned on, the monotone sneaking back into Draco's ears, prompting him to glare irritably around the room. _Can someone remind me again_, Draco demanded, searching for a plausible answer, _as to why I'm in this dreadful class?_ Honestly, what did History of Magic have to do with business management, the focus of his course selection?

He pushed himself back upright just long enough to copy down the homework before it was time for morning classes to release. He smirked after having glanced at his tablemate's notes, smugly confirming his suspicion that he knew the entirety of the lecture the second the topic slipped blandly out of the Professor's mouth. Draco had phased out almost immediately and was quite glad that he did. What a waste of time that would be, to listen to things he already knew; he'd rather estimate how many torches lit the halls instead.

"A two. I give your performance a two."

The ends of Draco's mouth twitched. He turned his head around slowly, recognizing the boy standing and waiting for him to respond. "Oh really?" he drawled, picking up his bag and holding it for the mere second it took to find some lower year student to carry it. "Well, two must be the highest there is then."

"Unfortunately not, I have seen better. What happened to the debates, the jokes, the outwitting of the stupid professor? I saw nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Though I gave you points for simply ignoring Binns—who called on you three times, by the way—and driving him up the wall without even doing anything," the boy responded, his dark hair shielding his eyes as he grinned fiendishly.

"So I _was_ entertaining, Zabini. I think I deserve at least an eleven," Draco pointed out, rounding the corner, heading towards the Great Hall for lunch.

"Out of ten?" Blaise questioned with a laugh.

Draco smirked. "Five."

Upon their entrance, the Great Hall was already buzzing with the sound of chatter and clanking of utensils. Blaise's grin grew wider as he threw Draco a pointed glance before he strolled ahead, slipping his hands smoothly into his pockets. Draco lifted an eyebrow but didn't bother to quicken his pace, knowing that whatever his housemate had in mind would be glaringly obvious once he arrived to the tables himself.

Draco strode through the growing throng of rustling silk robes and hunger-filled stares only stopping when a hand fell lightly on his shoulder.

"I see you've made it out of Advanced History alive."

He recognized the voice immediately.

"I see you've managed to find out my entire schedule, Aaelicia. Should I expect stalking from you tomorrow?" he responded coolly, swiveling around to meet icy blue eyes and a pale complexion much like his own.

The girl set her gaze to the floor, feigning a blush as she brought a hand up to curl around her neck. "Oh dear, you've caught me," she glanced up, revealing the amusement dancing around her features coupled with a playful leer. "I've always wanted to know where you take your baths."

Draco snorted, turning on his heel. "You've been spending too much time with Pansy."

The expected sound of footsteps falling in sync with his still caused a ghost of a grin to linger over Draco's lips, but he didn't spare a glance at her until they reached their usual table.

"Get the hell away from me, Zabini! Urgh! Stop trying to feed me my food!"

Draco should have known. The reason why Zabini had rushed over to the table was because he had spotted Emillie Taint—the love of his life, the object of his puppy-dog affections, and his not so healthy obsession. Okay, so perhaps it wasn't exactly all that, but it was always good fun to see the quidditch team captain squirm in her seat as she constantly got hit on by the team beater.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Zabini tried to feed her once again, ignoring her previous protests. She shrugged his arm away violently and cast the food in the silver spoon into flames. "Don't touch me!" she hissed. "Do it again and I'll set your pretty little face on fire!"

Blaise's grin grew even wider, staring at Emillie as if she were a bludger he was just about to hit out of the stadium. "So you admit it," he inched closer, placing his hand on her forearm. "You think I'm pretty."

"No!" she screeched back indignantly. "Hey! Didn't I tell you not to touch me?"

He snatched back his hand much to Emillie's disbelief (seeing as he never listened to a word she said before) but instead he moved his head closer, just near enough for her to get a whiff of his distinct cologne. "I guess you leave me no choice," he murmured. "I'll just have to _kiss_—"

"Don't you dare!"

"Oh, I believe you'll find me a _very_ daring person."

"I swear on my grandmother's grave—"

"Your grandmother's not dead yet."

"I. Will. Kill. You."

"Oh!" Blaise's ears perked up like a loyal dog's when he saw his beloved owner. "Malfoy! And…Malfoy cousin!"

Draco glanced back at him dryly. Sure, Zabini's little way of amusing himself had been entertaining for the first few weeks of school, but now it was simply overdone. He nodded cordially at Emillie before scanning over the table, taking note of who was there.

Aaelicia sat down with pursed lips. "I have a name, you know. It might be best to, oh I don't know, use it?"

"No one cares!" Crabbe muttered before he shoved a whole roast beef sandwich in his mouth as Goyle laughed at nothing in particular at all.

"Oh yeah," Emillie piped up, keeping Zabini at an arm's length away from her. "Pansy won't be showing up today. She's still in the common room, actually, but she's a bit…tangled up."

Draco checked off another way of amusing himself. Suddenly not feeling hungry, he pushed away from the table and strode out of the Great Hall. Perhaps he can find a little Gryffindor to make fun of. Extra points if he could make the little runt cry.

He walked lazily through the corridors, his hands in the pockets of his cloak. The nights were starting to grow chillier as the months passed by. The following week would be the final week of October, including Halloween and all its festivities. It had satisfied Draco to simply play more tricks and give himself treats on the day dedicated to the dead, but this year, being his final year, he had to do something extravagant enough to leave a mark clearly reading, "Draco Malfoy was here."

Glancing down a corridor normally used by the lower class students, Draco pondered the possibility that there might be something better to do than intimidate some brain-less second years. He had to think on a bigger, better, and more beguiling scale if he wanted to leave school knowing that he would never bow down to teachers, rules, his father, or even the Dark Lord himself in the times to come.

Getting the feat done was not the problem for he had many people at his disposal. He was a master of manipulation and mind games and never had he met anyone who could even come close to the caliber in which he worked. No, the 'how' wasn't important. What boggled him was the 'what'.

He walked past the lower classmen corridor, his mind caught in his constant meticulous calculations as he decided to put a plan, _any _plan, into action as soon as possible. Draco rounded another corner, hastily changing his course so that he could retire in the dungeons. This was just frustrating, this planning thing. Normally, brilliant ideas settled themselves nicely in his hands without Draco having to do anything more than decide he was bored.

"Oh bloody hell," he muttered irritably as he narrowly missed planting his face into a rather disturbing picture of an angel, its wings fully outstretched, smothering a snake into the dirt ridden ground. Draco stared incredulously at the portrait, his eyes flashing dangerously. Why on Earth would a painting like this exist so close to the dungeons? Did the artist have a death wish? Was the castle interior design group a handful of idiotic pixies?

Draco saw red.

Literally.

Their signature fiery red hair pushing its way into his peripheral vision_, Weasley_ was the first thought that came to mind. Plus, he could tell who it was from their filthy, blood traitor stench that lingered in his nostrils, making his nose twitch in distaste. But there was no time to waste on such a short-lived form of amusement even though it was quite entertaining to watch the gangly Weasel start to churn with anger, the red on the tops of his ears blending in with the mess of glaring red hair. He turned on his heel, racking his brain for the correct spell to use to alter the painting to make the snake coil around the angel's leg in a successful attempt to bring her down.

A soft giggle reverberated in his ears, causing Draco to furrow his brows at the feminine laugh. Ah, a _weaselette_. He hadn't paid any attention to the length of the hair or even the build of the body, but running into the Weasley girl never seemed to cross his mind. Perhaps this is because he hadn't participated in a row or even so much as seen her in the corridors. But still that giggle made him stop cold, his mouth drawn into a line as he was reminded of his failure in the room of requirements. He didn't contemplate over it every hour on the hour but he did have it tucked in the back of his mind.

He whipped his head around, his gray eyes darkening with malice. If he needed to vent out some anger and frustration, who better fit to be vented on than a useless-to-wizarding-kind youngest Weasley? He caught up with her with no effort at all, his long strides shortening the distance in record time. Draco could see the muscles in her back stiffening as he drew closer, the thought of her discomfort causing him to smirk in satisfaction. "Weasley!" he snarled.

She stopped and threw him a glance over her shoulder, her face and tone too pleasant for his taste. "Yes?"

"Finally found that walking around by yourself in the lower year corridors is more suitable to the likes of you and your kind? I can understand that completely, seeing as you're probably more suited to walk in the lower class." He shook his head, feigning pity. "The poor just keep getting poorer."

"Is that so?" the girl responded coolly, fully turning around to face him.

"Undoubtedly. Always making poor decisions like," he paused, "contributing to overpopulation. Explain to me, why does your mother have so many children? Doesn't she notice how she _obviously_ cannot fully provide for any of them?"

"Don't talk about things you don't understand," she uttered in a deadly calm voice.

"But I'm right, and you can't prove me wrong."

She narrowed her eyes.

"And that's what you really don't like, isn't it?"

She opened her mouth, ready to attack but then she abruptly shut it, eyes darting to the floor. The little Weasley seemed to be muttering under her breath irritably, as if she were trying to rationalize herself. Well, wasn't that an interesting response? No fiery temper? No indignant yells?

We'll see about that.

"I mean, look at your ragged fifteenth hand clothes. Does your mother shop or does she just grab what she can from the trash?" he commented lightly, pointing at the loose robes that she was wearing. She slapped his hand away. He grinned.

"Or is it your father? He probably doesn't make enough money in his dreadful jobs. I mean, honestly, why deal with muggle protection? Why not cut them off from our world like they did in theirs?"

Her eyes set in a glare as she manned the fort. "_You_ want to talk about dreadful jobs? _You _want to talk about Fathers that can't provide? Well, I thought that might be a rather sensitive topic for _you_."

He was just as ready as she was. "Changing subjects, are we?"

"Dodging subjects, are we?"

In the silence that followed, both prepared for the first shot.

Fire!

"No really, how does your father provide behind bars in Azkaban, sucking face with the dementors?"

"Oh, he has his sources."

"And I have mine."

The battle had just begun.

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End Note: Phew! You made it through Chapter Two! Go you! Now, it's not much of a chapter and I do promise things will start to pick up, but I just wanted to show you Draco's school life and a little intro into how he thinks. Also, you'll find out more about what Ginny was thinking during this little spat in the next chapter. Plus, you'll get to meet her friends and what not, so look forward to it! Sorry for the late update. I was planning on posting once a week but sometimes I get abnormally busy. So, at the latest, expect something from me every two weeks. I'll try my hardest to be on time...but when exam season rolls around, I ask your forgiveness in advance. The good thing is, though, that it won't be here for another few months. Happy Reading! Review? ;D 


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